


Causality

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Sex Pollen, Sex Slave, Undercover, Virgin Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:45:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Kylo Ren has been kidnapped, drugged, and forced into sex slavery by the Hutts. Rey is sent to rescue him, posing as a client, and ordered to do whatever it takes to get him back.And she isn’t prepared for how devastating this mission will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PalenDrome (nerdherderette)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/gifts).



> A treat for PalenDrome for the More than Love: RFFA Valentine’s Exchange

**/////**   
**01**   
**/////**

 

When it happens, her wrench falls from her hand, bangs on the ground; once, twice. The sound of metal against the floor resonates, and BB-8 makes a few curious beeps. “Rey?” Poe asks from underneath the X-wing. “Everything alright?”

And she staggers towards the ship, her hand reaching out to press against its steadiness. She feels, she feels-- she’s not quite sure because--

Kylo Ren has been in the periphery of her senses since Ahch-To; a blight to her privacy and impossible to shake despite her resistance to it.

And now, he’s gone, leaving behind something severed and cauterized. She gasps out with the absence; a beautiful, terrible thing. “I need to talk to the General.”

*  
Intelligence isn’t what it used to be, but the General’s network continues to grow. Word from their spies in Coruscant inform that _the supreme leader is on a sabbatical, some kind of force-related thing, very hush hush, but general hux is handling affairs_.

Rey squirms uneasily when the General tells her this. “Something’s wrong, something’s wrong,” she repeats, and reaches out for him. Senses nothing. She feels stifled by the silence.

“We’ll keep digging,” the General says while holding her hands tightly together.

*  
Rey is in the hangar when Calrissian arrives in a First Order shuttle and emerges in full uniform; called back home early after a year in deep cover. Opening her mind, she searches the shallowest of his thoughts and sees the face of a young Ben Solo -- _he has news about him for Leia and it’s not good_ , she thinks and her hands fist.

*  
This is the news from the Grand Moffs: _the supreme leader is missing, all efforts are in order to locate him; finding him is priority one_

*  
Over a bottle of Corellian whisky, Finn asks in a hushed voice: “Aren’t you happy, to be disconnected? To have shaken loose from him at last?”

“Yes,” blurts out of her mouth immediately. _And no,_ she thinks. It’s a traitorous ache that lingers and she leans into it, knowing that it’s wrong. It’s not that she _misses_ him, she concedes, it’s that she’s at a loss for where he is; well or not. Not knowing he exists, not knowing that he’s alive and well; it’s a noxious state of being.

*  
In her dreams, it’s always she that kills him. There’s true horror in the idea that someone else might beat her to it.

*  
The General summons her to her private quarters and when Rey reaches them, she can sense it before she sees it: something unspeakable has happened. The door snaps open and the General is like a ghost, so white.

“I’m going to play you a message I’ve received,” she says, her voice like gravel. “I warn you that it isn’t pleasant.”

Rey steels herself and looks at the screen. A tattooed Hutt comes into view and he begins with a low chuckle. “Huttslayer,” he says in a cheerful greeting, “You can breathe a sigh of relief. I have solved your little problem, and incidentally, gained a new asset for my establishment, for you see--”

*  
After the message is over, the palms of her hands have little crescents from her finger nails being pressed so deep into the skin.

*  
Rey runs the length of the cruiser and back seven times until her stomach hurts from the exercise, not from the knowledge. She remembers how the Hutt laughed in closing: “--And if you want a turn with him, Huttslayer, I’ll give you a discount”; that’s when she heaves into a trash can.

*  
When she tells them, privately, and in her own room, Poe’s hand seems to reflexively grip Finn’s arm as if he’s the one kidnapped.

“How is he being kept? He’s too powerful,” Finn asks.

Poe looks anywhere but at Rey. “There’s rumors about an animal that can dampen the Force. That would keep him trapped. And the Hutts have all kinds of aphrodisiac spice. That would keep him working.”

She winces. “Keep him servicing clients.” The nausea is overwhelming.

“You realize when he wakes up out of it,” Finn says, “He’ll destroy Nal Hutta from orbit.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

And Finn puts his head in his hands. “I’d probably fire again at the broken shards remaining.”

*  
She lays in bed uneasily; cold in body, cold in soul. And when she sleeps, it’s worse.

When she closes her eyes, drifts away, all she can see is him.

*  
“The two of you are going in,” the General says. Poe leans in, listening carefully. “You’re-- you’re to be--” She can’t seem to say it.

Rey feels the word before she opens her mouth and says: “Clients.” The concept is-- is terrible. Bleak. “We don’t know what gender he serves.”

The General sighs out. “This mission is unusual, I know. But I need you to do whatever it takes to get my son back.”

It’s the first time Rey’s heard Leia directly call him her son.

*  
She’s thought of destroying him, she’s thought of turning him. She’s also thought of--

*  
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Finn asks. “Do you know what to--”

“I have to go,” Rey’s voice is like iron. “Don’t try and dissuade me.”

Finn clears his throat, moves in closer. Gentler this time: “I’m not. I’m just--. This mission will hurt in so many ways, in ways you haven’t even imagined yet. And you might have to--” and he can’t say the words.

Rey sees it, a vast array of images of skin against skin; some of it hers, some of it his. An inevitable tête-à-tête, and one with significant consequences. To her mind, to her body. But something like paralysis has set in where a beating heart should be inside her chest; like a fly in amber, frozen.

She sets her jaw. “It doesn’t matter. I have to go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**/////**   
**02**   
**/////**

  
*  
They arrive on Nal Hutta on an elegant leisure cruiser that heavens above know from where the General got it. Poe follows her down the gangplank, and she can hear his sauntering pace. She swallows and turns her head back to stare at him. “Keep up, lover,” she calls out in accented Basic and she feels him jump. Hears him take a few faster steps. And when they reach the floor of the docking bay, she leans into him, pressing her nose against his cheek and then almost biting at his ear. She saw a woman do that once on Jakku, thought it was ridiculous, but there’s an entire world of scum and villainy to persuade today.

“I’ve got an itch,” she says conspiratorially to him, but loud enough to be heard on any nearby listening device.

“Let’s do something about that,” he says and she can tell he’s about to kiss her.

It would be the right thing to do, it would lock down the alias of an hedonistic couple, but everything about it seems wrong. She always thought her first kiss would be with-- with someone she wanted to kiss.

Not that Poe wouldn’t be-- good, great at it. Just. No, she thinks. This isn’t what I want.

So, she puts two fingers against his lips, inches from her own. Pushes slightly. His eyes widen just a hair, and he pulls away. Gives her space.

“Don’t bore me, that’s all I ask,” she says, her tone languid and they move for the door.

*  
Rey has never been to an-- an-- _establishment_ such as this, and every inch of her is tense. Species of many genders and races in various states of dress linger in corners speaking with hushed tones over many, many glasses of sparkling liquor. Poe does the initial talking with the majordomo while Rey looks first with her eyes and then reaches out with the Force. He’s nowhere to be found, and it’s like a room with the light out -- she knows he’s there, but he’s absent.

“--well then,” she hears the the majordomo say, “you might as well speak with our madam. If you would kindly wait a moment, gentle sir.”

Looking expectantly, Rey raises her eyebrows and Poe throws her the smile of a smug wretch of a scoundrel. He leans in close to her ear: “They’re checking our line of credit and to _taste something special_ we have to talk to the boss.” And he pushes in closer: “I can handle this if you want to sit it out.”

She puts her hands on his chest and flexes her fingers, looks at him as appreciatively as possible. People are watching. “He’s mine,” she says, and is surprised at the force and tenor of her voice. Poe blinks and then smiles at her, an honest Poe-like smile. She’s so glad he’s here with her, something stable to lean against.

Because she knows, what happens next has the potential to destroy her.

*  
“Gentle lady, sweet gentleman,” a Twilek says, emerging out of seemingly nowhere. She runs her hand along her headdress and there’s a charming tinkling of little bells. “What piques your interest today? She eyes them both. "It's not often I get such a lovely couple, and we want to impress."

Rey breathes in. "We'd like something special," she says. She's spent years of her life haggling for what she wants. "And you know we can pay for it."

"Yes, you can," the madam purrs. "I have just the girl in mind for you--" And that's when Rey sees him for the first time, in the mind's eye of the Twilek as she thinks of the concept _special_. It's Kylo Ren, trussed up in leathers and bright paints. Something dead in his eyes. She shivers.

"Male," Rey says coolly. "Dark hair. Well built. Dangerous."

And the curve of the madam's smile is nothing more than wicked. "That’s quite a lot of credits for a couple," she says. "Would you like to see him before you purchase?"

Poe opens his mouth and Rey lifts her hand. "And I want the whole night, no interruptions."

The madam's eye squints at this and Rey immediately reinforces her words in the Force with a cloying sweetness. "It's my Name Day after all. I'm sure he can keep up."

Carefully, the madam touches her headdress again, almost awkwardly. “There’s one thing you should know,” she says. “He’s not, well -- he’s not well broken in but the two of you should be able to handle him.” Rey realizes these are facts that the Twilek would not have shared if Rey hadn’t pushed in her with the Force. “And when he’s in the throes of -- well, you know -- he sometimes says the name _Rey_.”

Rey freezes and Poe grabs her hand. She bites her lip hard and it bleeds.

“We assume,” the madam continues, “that this was his prior mistress.”

Suddenly blind, she squeezes Poe’s hand so tight that he must be in pain. He doesn’t flinch. Merely says: “She must have been quite a woman, ma’am.”

*  
Bottles of wine are ordered and the madam takes them up red carpeted stairs to the second floor. When the sensation hits her, Rey takes a misstep at the top stair. The Force, it’s gone. It’s an energy that binds all things, brings balance, and yet she can’t feel it at all. It’s horrible, horrible.

She breathes in, smiles faintly, and stands upright. “I’m fine,” she lies. And swears to burn the place down when this is done.

*  
At the door, the madam raps on it twice and then pushes it open. It’s a large room, opulent in design, all velvet and fur and four poster bed, and empty. “The door to the refresher is over there,” she calls out easily and sets the bottles of wine on a table. “If you need anything, _anything_ , please don’t hesitate to ring.”

And then: “What level of spice would you like for him? I recommend a higher dosage as there’s two of you.”

Rey’s skin crawls. “Six,” she says steadily and a hand behind her back fists.

The madam makes an inscrutable expression. “Six it is. Please wait a moment.”

When she leaves the room, Poe’s at her elbow. “Are you--”

“Hush,” she says. “This is--” She takes a breath. “We need to find the creatures doing this to the Force so I can-- so _he_ can--”

Poe nods. “I can do it, but that would mean me leaving you alone with him.” And he looks a little white.

“He can’t hurt me.” And Rey believes it with all her heart. Poe, while looking unconvinced, nods. And with emphasis: “I’m not afraid.”

“You will be.” It’s a voice, deep and familiar and coming from the direction of the refresher door.

As one, they spin and stare.

Kylo Ren, in simple leather pants and a collar around his neck. Long, wavy hair. Bare chest gleaming and lips painted red. “You will be,” he echoes and a terrible, drug-induced smile rises on his lips. Not even a flicker of recognition in his dazed eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**/////**   
**03**   
**/////**

  
*  
She hasn’t seen him in person since Snoke’s ship and this is, this is-- quite different.

Raising herself to her full height is difficult when all she wants is to flee. Snapping her fingers gets his attention. “Slave,” she orders sharply. “Pour wine.” And she turns to Poe, turns away and closes her eyes so tight. “I don’t know what I expected,” she whispers.

“I can’t leave--” he tries.

And her fist presses against his shoulder. “No,” she says so fiercely that Poe flinches. “I can do this, I _will_ do this.” She feels like stone inside, unmovable.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Poe whispers and she considers it, really does.

Kylo appears in her periphery, holding out a crystal glass. “Mistress,” he says with something vaguely hostile in his voice. She takes the wine and splashes it immediately in Poe’s face. “Out of my sight,” she hisses as spitefully as she can and Poe stands there, startled.

They stand there, staring at each other until Kylo quietly says: “you heard her, _get out_.”

Poe blinks and then his face lights up with the most lopsided roguish smile before he dashes to the door. “I hope he’s good, we’re paying a fortune,” he calls out casually and leaves her alone. With _him_.

There’s a bit of the wine splashed on Kylo’s chest and she stares at it first before looking up at his eyes. “Do you know me?” she says very quietly.

Kylo tilts his head to the side. “In my dreams, perhaps,” he says in an echo of his true voice. She shivers, believing him.

“I’m here to rescue you,” she says, even quieter.

He stares at her carefully, and then he opens his mouth: “Oh my mistress, from what?” he says with a curiosity. “From here?” He chuckles low. “Why would I need to be rescued?” He reaches out and touches her face, a gentle tug on her chin with two fingers as if to look at her, fully. “You want me all for yourself, I take it?” He leans in. “Even without tasting me first?” His lips are now so very close to her own. She can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

Rey pulls away, confused. The proximity was so much. The wrongness of him is so much.

He puts his offending hand behind his back. “What do you want of me, Mistress?”

She considers the question. Considers that they can’t just sit here and play dejarik till Poe finds and kills the force dampers. Considers that she, who has never done this before, is going to have to do _something_ with him, who is now enslaved to do such acts. Drugged to the point that he must or be in great pain otherwise.

And there’s a crippling sense of shame rising in her because, she knows there’s something incredibly exciting about this. There’s a thrilling sensation in her belly, and between her legs. A traitorous sign.

 _He’s not himself_ , she thinks, she knows. And yet, as her eyes gaze at the curve of his skin, there’s a spark of hunger inside of her.

“Wine,” she orders and he pours her another glass. She drinks it so fast she feels dizzy. “More,” and he obeys, but this time he gets in her space, gauges her expression, and then pushes his leg against hers a little.

“I’m glad he’s gone,” he says and with an intriguing earnesty. “It should just be us.” He moves just enough to where can feel his hardness rigid against her leg. His eyelids flicker slightly at the connection.

Every single feeling she’s carried for this man blossoms into a cacophony of divergent sound in her ears. Overstimulated and as a creature of violence, her hand lifts to push him away. But he grabs her hand just before she can strike him, and raises it to his mouth. Kisses the wrist and then sucks lightly on two fingers before letting her go.

It occurs to her that he must have been taught lessons in seduction; he, Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader, teeming with precious Skywalker blood. Reduced to _this_.

(Her heart had flipped over while feeling her skin inside his mouth.)

With a shaky breath, she considers two truths: time must be spent while Poe takes care of business, and Kylo doesn’t know her, so there’s no good in trying until the Force is her ally again.

So, she returns to the role. In perfectly accented Basic: “I’m glad he’s gone too, I don’t like being outnumbered.” The change in her tone and stance is abrupt, and something like confusion washes over his face before he adjusts, gives her a steady almost-servile gaze. Looking at his eyes, she makes herself touch him, her fingernails dragging along his skin; belly button to clavicle. His skin is so warm. He trembles at her touch and she’s reminded of the spice. “So now that you have me alone, tell me what you’d like to do to me, slave. I’m curious.”

The words came out before she could stop them. Now her request is out in the room, and he has no choice but to answer. She squeezes her legs together and waits.

He circles her, and his gaze is appraising. “You’re a strange one, mistress. I haven’t quite figured you out.” She involuntarily reaches out with the Force and hates how all she can feel is a smothering sensation. Hates that she can’t see him coming because then: he grabs her from behind, one hand at her neck, and the other at her waist, tugging her close, closer to him. And his lips are at her ear. “I’d start with this,” and his mouth meets the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

She’s glad he’s holding her firm because her knees become watery. He takes his time, a few judicious kisses followed by a sharp suck. She is marked now, a small bruise on her skin. Attempting composure, she tries to keep her voice steady, saying: “And then?”

His hand grips her neck so tight that she wheezes before he lets her go, snakes his hand down to cup her breast. “You really want me to voice how brutally I will wreck you, mistress?” He squeezes tight before spinning her around. “Or do you want me to just do it?”

In response, Rey longs desperately for her lightsaber; longs to push him to the ground, to threaten, and to leave him there.

But she stares at him, his eyes so wide and black, cheeks red, and the unsteady pant of his breath. _He’s not himself_ , she reminds herself and wants so badly to save him from this situation. _And I can do that_ , she thinks. _If I’m brave._

“We have all night,” she says, somewhat strained. She breathes in as steadily as she can. And then, with more strength behind it: “And I want to see the _stars_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**/////**   
**04**   
**/////**

  
*  
It begins with his fingers, wet from his mouth, pressing against her sex. She flinches at the first touch, and then relaxes. She’s done this herself before, of course, a million times. It’s just so different when-- when someone else does it for you.

A panic, albeit brief, hits her when he learns exactly the pressure she needs. She thinks: _do I really want this? Is this right?_ And her body shivers with want, an open betrayal.

What’s wet becomes flooded when she catches a glimpse of Kylo in his expression; an echo of who he is. The thought of him being responsible for this storm of sensation softens her body in so many ways. She always wanted him beneath her, and this is, this is a new way to appreciate that sentiment.

But the smile on his face is all kinds of wrong, and she hates it, closes her eyes to shut it out. And that’s when he begins fucking into her sex with slick fingers; one and then two. And she feels something building deep inside of her that has never happened before. It’s like he’s hitting something more sensitive than her clit, and based on her gasping, this is going to carry her into the first throes of bliss in a way unknown.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says and the gentleness of his voice shocks her. His fingers twist and she’s shaking, lost in a sudden and lovely climax. Her toes curl and his words knock about in her head. She thinks, she knows: _I can’t lose sight of what he is, and what he is not._

“Then fuck me again,” she orders between gasps, and he complies.

*  
The opening volley was done with clothes in the way, and now she strips them off, pooling her alias’ dress to the ground and standing naked in front of him. His eyes seem to drink her in and he moves to disrobe and then stops, having not been ordered.

“Let’s tend to you,” she says, all business, and takes courageous strides towards him. “You’ll be ready again soon,” and she begins to undo his trousers, reach for his dick.

Rey is not ready for the length and girth of it in her hand, but she’s also not afraid. She knows enough about this act to perform it this first time, squeezing lightly and then tugging down. This is meant-- this is meant to be perfunctory; a balm not an intimacy.

But this is still the first time she’s ever touched a man.

He helps her, wets her hand a little with spit and his pre-come, and adjusts her rhythm. She’s unable to look at his face, stares hard at his dick and watches it in her hand. _What if this was inside me?_ she thinks and with an euphoric curiosity rather than fear. But her thoughts are interrupted as he’s very quickly lost in the throes of what looks like a very painful, very brief orgasm.

His dick remains hard after, and she shudders.

She takes his head in her hands, and looks at his face. He looks vulnerable and she hates what’s been done to him. “That was a kindness I didn’t deserve, mistress,” he says roughly and there’s a glimmer of something familiar in his eyes. Something angry. Her hands move, slide down his skin to grip his neck; a choke hold of sorts. She pushes in at his neck until he squirms; and she thinks: _this would be so much easier with the Force_. But the feel of him makes it so much more satisfying.

“I am not being kind,” she says. _This is wrong_ , she thinks, and her grip tightens. Maybe he too will have a bruise along his neck. He stills against her. She breathes in unsteadily; her heart, a beating drum. Violence is what she understands, not this, this dangerous game they’re playing.

And violence is what _he_ understands; perhaps--

But her fingers loosen and her mouth opens: “Clean yourself up, slave, I require your mouth”

*  
Rey’s never had a man between her legs before, not _ever_ , and she’s not quite sure how it’s done. And it’s apparent he’s not entirely sure how it’s done. But she can tell he’s determined to learn.

She thinks about what the madam said about him not being well broken in. At the time, she tried not thinking about what that meant, and now, as she sees the holes in his learning, she has more than a few pointed questions for the tattooed Hutt.

Carefully, carefully, she reaches down and tangles her fingers in his hair. He sighs out from her touch. Then with a fierceness, she tugs hard. “Don’t let up, slave,” she orders and rolls her hips a little. “You want to wreck me, then wreck me.”

She can feel him breathing hard against her most sensitive skin; a sharp, angry sort of breath followed by a series of calming ones. _No,_ she thinks weakly, the quiet voice in her head begging this all to stop. If this was Kylo, if this was really Kylo Ren, she thinks, how different this would be.

(It’s not that she’s not _willing_ ; she has to be. To save him, she has to be.)

And his barrage begins again.

From a sloppy beginning, they make for a moderately well-run operation. He takes cues from her moans and direction from her words; his tongue works wonders against her clit, over and over again until she shatters. It’s a completely different sensation than before, and addictive, so she orders him to continue. And continue he does.

In her experience, she’s a one-and-done sort of girl, her hand at her sex and her gasping heard by no one. It’s truly a beautiful and terrifying thing to have pleasure prolonged like this.

She rides his mouth. There’s a word begging to be on her lips and she swallows it down, swallows it as hard as she can. There’s no coming back from it if she says “Ben” in this room.

When she’s a complete mess -- mewling and desperate after coming again, and again, and again -- he stops, and moves up the length of her body to face her. The paint on his lips is gone, and his mouth and chin are wet. She bites down on her lip, bites down on the urge to kiss him now. Crush her mouth against his.

She remembers the surge of desire for him in the throne room, many months ago; it was so overpowering at the time that she had to run from it. She wanted him then. Standing by her, standing for her. She remembers the feeling in her skin, longing to touch him. Before he betrayed her.

“Mistress,” he whines out softly and she shakes her head of past shadows, and is reminded of the drug, and how uncomfortable he must be. She looks down at the purple gnarled thing between his legs. There’s considerations for what happens next, what she can do to help.

She has options, many of them.

And with the clench inside of her sex, she knows what she wants, she knows what she can do for him. What terrible thing she can do to him. An escalation with a finality.

Quiet. “Do you want this?” she asks, feeling awful about it. Knowing that his answer will be--

“Yes,” and his eyes shine so bright.

She presses her lips together hard. Shaken almost to a breaking point. The consequences of her actions will be extreme. She’s using him for her own pleasure, she consented to drug him so he’d like it.

“Do whatever it takes,” the General had said.

 _Stop thinking about it_ , she thinks. And she acts.

“So what was all this talk about wrecking me?” she says imperiously, and adjusts so that he’s on his back and she’s straddling him. His rock hard sex is against her wetness, and she’s breathless about it. “Do I have to do all the work?” And feeling a little terrified, she moves just so that she can sink down on top of him. _This is it_ , she thinks with a glimmer of sadness and the shame of joy. He arches his back hard against the bed, and looks so thoroughly vulnerable and undone that her heart breaks.

And she begins to ride him as hard as she can.

He comes almost immediately and there is something almost “Rey”-shaped on his lips. Horrible, wonderful. The worst thing to happen to her. But there’s no softening of his dick yet, so she keeps up the pace. His eyes watch her now, a sort of curious and confused look on his face and she sees why the madam suggested a higher dose. He might still be in there, and she might be able to reach him.

“How can I get you to be less soft?” she hisses, willing him to violence -- the one trait she knows he owns. Her hand raises to strike him and he catches it, mid air and his grip is achingly tight. She winces. Staring at her, his mouth opens to say something but then it closes. And with a sudden turn, he flips her on her back, gathers her up in his arms and thrusts in with a relentlessness that leaves her breathless. Her sex, so well prepared from before, feels a little raw but she also feels like a live wire. She opens her mouth to demand something else when--

Her breath is all caught up in her lungs and she can immediately see herself in his vision; all bare skin and dark eyes. There’s absolutely no warning, and nothing to prepare her as that which divided her from the Force is now gone, sudden and sharp-like. She’s wide open in every way, and his very being fills her completely. There’s no warning at all before Kylo Ren looks up at her with a startled recognition and the word on his mouth is definitely “Rey.”

He’s balls deep inside of her. And she watches him realize this.

Rey lets out her breath. She’s way past the point of no return now, there’s no way to go back. So she grabs his waist and slams her hips against his; once, twice. He stares blankly at her for a moment before taking a timid thrust, followed by a firmer one, followed by a--

His face changes and she remembers this expression from the throne room. Every fragment of control she had vanishes.

They both increase the force of their efforts, a mutually assured destruction. It’s a punishing sort of rhythm, and it takes her breath away. As much as she’d like to close her eyes, just give into the sensations, her gaze is locked on his, impossible to dare to look elsewhere. She watches him watch her and in her mind’s eye, she can see what he sees.

 _Once this is over_ , she thinks, _what will he think of me?_

 _Once this is over_ , she thinks, _I’m never letting him go._

Rey is surprised by her own orgasm ripping through her, tearing her to shreds. As the walls of her sex crash mercilessly against his dick, he follows shortly behind. After he comes, making such a mess inside of her, he pulls out and softens at last.

Hovering over her, he’s staring with blinking, questioning eyes. She opens her mouth to say his name, say “I’m so sorry,” and that’s when his lips crush against hers.


	5. Chapter 5

**/////**   
**05**   
**/////**

  
*  
Rey’s never been kissed before in her life, but she’s very good at knowing what she likes and what she doesn’t. And by all that is good, she likes whatever he’s doing to her. Likes it very much. His mouth against her mouth; tongue, teeth, and lips. It’s an overpowering sensation, drowning in his kisses but holding her own in the-- the-- _conversation_ , as it were. The flicker of flames still licking at her sex threaten to reignite as they learn how to kiss each other filthily, and with slightly unhinged intent to do again what they just thoroughly accomplished together.

It’s maddening.

(More than she knows: Kylo Ren, his _true_ self, has never been kissed before in his life either.)

She gets the sense from her own heart, and the periphery of his mind, that if they stop kissing, they have to talk. Talk about this, about what’s happened.

So, they kiss, and kiss, and kiss; bodies entwined and hands grasping at skin and hair and muscle.

The feeling is exquisite; the thoughts behind it consume her. With every breath, she breathes him in and wishes the galaxy was just the two of them, no one else. No agendas, no orders. Just his mouth against hers, his skin against hers, his soul bared to her alone.

She wants to swallow him down; take control. Own him utterly. And she can sense that he would--

Kylo would let her.

He gasps out, and she realizes too late that it was a sob. She loosens her grip on him physically and her mind opens as wide as she can, an impossible maw, and she drinks in his every thought. _IS THIS A DREAM?_ are the words screaming loud in his brain. _THIS MUST BE. THIS IS A DREAM._ Tears are in his eyes. _EXPLAIN THIS_ , she hears.

“Explain yourself,” he voices roughly, and it’s his own voice. What she recognizes and knows. The commanding sound of a man pushed too fast into galaxy-wide control. Feeling imperious over him, feeling her true power for the first time tonight, she is unmoved by it, and thinks of answering it with a punishing kind of kiss.

That’s when the door opens without a single knock and a bloodied, gasping Poe Dameron bursts in. Stares, and immediately turns around and puts his hands over his head. “Sorry, sorry, but we have to go. Now.” He waits half a moment before. “I’m so sorry.” It’s the freezing cold water bath she needed to wake up, wake up out of this-- this distraction.

Rey grabs Kylo’s face. “I'll explain later. But first it’s critical that we get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you --”

And she slaps him then. The full force of her; hand to cheek. “This is a rescue and we’re leaving now.”

She senses him search her mind, and she brutally projects images of every gangster in Nal Hutta shooting them with various and sundry weapons. “And both of us are unarmed,” she says with meaning. His eyes go wide, and he rolls to his side to get up.

They’re a mess. She longs with a true desperation for a shower, but wiping herself down with the sheets is all she can do. “Poe,” she says, and he moves to help, rushing towards her discarded dress across the room.

She’s naked but it doesn’t matter. He helps her into it and then finds her underwear. Hands it to her, all business, and then moves towards the paralysed Kylo Ren. “Your pants,” he says easily, and brings them to him.

There’s something prickling in her memory; being told that Kylo brutally interrogated him once.

 _We don’t deserve him,_ she thinks and thanks all the powers that be that he’s courting Finn. _He’s a good man._

“Do you know the back way out of here?” Poe asks of him.

“I don’t know where I am,” Kylo says quietly and she can sense his fear, an abyss that continues to grow.

“Guess we’re going out the front.”

*  
They run for it, dodge blaster fire; he holds her hand the entire way.

*  
Losing the ragtag security after them, they reach the cruiser and Poe lifts them up and into space in moments.

Alarm bells ring in her ears so loud that she winces, reaches out to hold Kylo’s arm to steady herself. Realizes what she’s done and retreats. Stares wildly at the madly flashing display screen and senses the prinkling sense of worry in the front of Poe’s thoughts.

Before they have a handle on the situation, it goes pear shaped.

“Unidentified cruiser,” a voice says in Huttese, “you have something that is ours.”

Suddenly surrounded by mercenary ships of every sort and shape, there’s no way to break off, sail into lightspeed. Poe flips four switches and the General appears in hologram. Rey feels it before she sees Kylo’s full body flinch. He still looks a mess; he’s still the prodigal son. She considers concealing him with her own frame but decides against it. He deserves this.

“We need backup,” Poe says, as if this this the most casual ask. “Significant backup.”

The General grimaces, nods. “I-- They can reach you in 20 minutes.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Poe replies, and Rey watches his hands fist. She’s not seen his fear manifest before.

“Then I suggest you--”

Kylo reaches over Poe to shut off the comm. The General’s hologram disappears and Poe sputters, startled, upset. Then they both watch Kylo manually input a frequency and code, his fingers running over the controls so fast.

Instantaneous: “Supreme Leader, it’s been a while.” It’s the dry voice of General Hux. No visual, but it’s unmistakably him.

Kylo takes a breath. “Code Echo Alpha Sierra. Nal Hutta. Maximum Force.”

There’s a long pause before: “Sir,” is the sharp response.

Huttese booms out of the speakers: “Unidentified cruiser, prepare to be boarded.”

Rey and Poe gasp in air together as one, look at each other; unsure about what happens next. She looks up at Kylo has something like a smug expression on his lips. He looks down at her and says: “three-- two-- one--”

And that’s when the first Star Destroyer arrives. And then the second, and third. Followed by a dreadnought. Kylo looks up at the ceiling, his hands at his sides, and he breathes in very slowly. She can sense his calm, senses him cling to that which eases his anxieties. The might, the power of his war machine.

“Poe?” she says, tentatively. Afraid of what happens next, afraid of watching it.

On the open channel to Hux, they hear: “We see you. Make your way home to us.” Rey slams her fingers down on the comm to shut him off.

“You brought the party,” Poe says, finally able to swing out of range as the Hutt’s ships reform their lines with the new, dangerous interlopers. “But we’re not staying.”

“Now, listen to me--” Kylo starts, and she can feel the rage beginning to grow in him, take him over.

A taste of the abject rage to come.

Poe looks at her.

She understands. Rising to her full height, she looks at Kylo, watches him see it coming and his eyes go wide. And she slams her fist into his face.

He craters to the floor.

“PUNCH IT,” she shouts and all they see is lightspeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**/////**  
**06**  
**/////**

*  
At the rendezvous point, she’s finally able to breathe.

Then, she looks at his prone form, aided now by a Force-induced sleep, and she shivers.

*  
Rey senses him awaken in the periphery of her mind, gives her excuses to Poe and Chewie, and makes her way to the guest quarters, pushes the door open. He’s stirring in the bed. Her senses are so incredibly heightened, she can feel his comfort; skin against sheets and the softness of waking up from a deep sleep.

She knows what’s coming, steels herself for it.

His eyes open, and she sees him recognize the familiar trappings of his childhood room on the Falcon. The first sensation is peace, warmth; he relaxes into the feeling as if he’s desperately needed this balm. This release. He looks a decade younger, maybe younger than that. Guileless, gentle. An echo of a face she’s seen before.

And then he sees her, his vision is filled with her. His sluggish senses open to her fully. There’s a spark before the fire ignites: a deep, deep longing. An ache that surrounds him and penetrates him. Something quietly akin to the concept of love.

She’ll remember that split second moment until the day she dies.

But the fire overwhelms it. Confusion, remembrance, agony, rage. She senses his attack before he leaps out of bed, raises his hand to lift her off the ground. Fiercely focused, she’s automatically shielded herself from his chokehold, but her feet still dangle in the air. He lifts his hand to pull her near him but she’s caught up with him. Breaks the hold and she sinks to her feet. “No,” they both say at once, meaning different things, and he takes a few steps near her.

“No,” she warns again and shows that she’s armed. Her new lightsaber at her waist.

He hesitates. Stops. They stare at each other; two titans. Two beating hearts. She senses him collapse before he sighs, sits wearily on the bed. And something twists in the darkest reaches of her heart, a longing of her own.

“I’ve had such nightmares, such dreams.” His voice is so quiet. Then, slightly petulant: “I could make you tell me everything but--” And his tone changes. “--I’m afraid to know.” She considers the violence he might have done, waking up alone; it’s good that she’s-- that she’s here. He looks up and away from her. “We changed ships, I see.”

She nods. “You made sure the First Order knew our ship so we had to discard it. Get on the Falcon. And I thought it might—“

“You thought it might help for me to wake up here. And you with me,” he says dully. “Smart.” He’s quiet for a long time before: “Was any of it real?”

There’s hesitation. She’s not sure of what exactly he’s speaking of. She tries: “You’re safe, that’s what matters.”

His jaw hardens. “I’m your prisoner. That’s what happened.”

There’s countering words quickly rising in her throat but she can’t voice them. He’s not wrong. “Better with me than with the Hutts.” She can’t help but see him again in her mind’s eye; spice-wild and whimpering against her skin. Kylo’s eyes widen now, staring at her carefully. She can feel him searching with the Force, his touch apprehensive.

His mind, she senses, is spinning; questions and theories. The full picture of the jigsaw puzzle is not quite clear to him yet.

“What will Hux have done to them?” she asks, thinking hard about the smell of blasters against steel and flesh.

Kylo stares at her evenly. “Without orders? Obliterate the mercenary fleet and threaten the local governor. Who I assume would know nothing and beg mercy. After some posturing, Hux would grant it and immediately take off to find me. Intelligence would be left behind to look further into it.” He closes his eyes. “It will take less than a week, I assume, for Intelligence to learn I was a kept whore in a whorehouse.” He says the words so casually that her heart aches for him.

Then: “They will see my neck. Bared for the axe.”

Despair is palpable in the room now; a billowy dark that exudes out of him. Crawls into every corner. A crushing helplessness follows shortly after, and she sees his face go white and the tightening of his fists.

And yet, she’s shielded with the most powerful thing in the entire galaxy: hope. “Even if I’d let you, you can’t go back,” she says. “Welcome to the Rebellion.”

He flinches with his entire body. Looking up, he glares daggers. “ _She_ won’t have me.”

“Whose orders am I following then?” she snaps. “Do you think I did this for a laugh?”

“I bet you all had a good laugh when you found out.” The words hit her harder than she’d like and something wet gets in her eyes.

“It made us sick. It made me sick. We dropped everything to come save you the minute we knew.” Before she knows it, she’s away from the wall and standing over him. “You, priority number one. And _whatever it takes_ was the edict.” She’s shaking now.

“Oh, I see. This was just a mission to you?” he snaps back, and she can see that he’s shaking as well. “Just a mission to--” He can’t say it but she sees it projected loudly out of his mind: images upon images of her writhing beneath him, some wanton creature. It’s a nearly overpowering stream of his consciousness, his agony, and their truth.

Her hand is at his neck before she realizes it. “Stop,” she says. He grabs her wrist and she wonders if he’ll break it. His eyes are wide and he’s breathing hard. “Stop,” she repeats, gentler this time, and he goes limp, lets her push her thumb against his larynx just enough. His hysteria softens. She opens her mouth. “There wasn’t much choice for me, and none for you.” She hesitates. “I’m sorry for that. I took something from you that you didn’t mean to offer.”

When he stares at her, there’s something achingly vulnerable in his look. He’s sensed what she hoped was buried. “And I took something from you.” He swallows roughly.

Surprised by his words, her grip loosens but her hand lingers against his skin and his fingers remain encircled around her wrist. This tactile connection is curious to her-- because it’s his-- his choice to touch and be touched. And hers too.

“We’re safe now, you’re safe,” she says. “It’s done.”

“Mission accomplished.” There’s something defeated in him. If she’s glad of anything, she’s glad his short reign as Supreme Leader and his long years of being the enemy will be over, must be over. And today.

His mouth opens, closes, opens again. And she knows the question before he speaks it. “Was any of it real to you?” He’s picturing the first kiss, followed by many others. He’s hearing her sigh against his skin. He’s feeling her tongue against his. He’s seeing her dark eyes close with pleasure.

She knew the question would come; it was something she felt in Poe, a question he desperately wanted to ask her while they waited for Kylo to wake. It is something she will have to discuss with Finn, her best friend in the whole galaxy. It is something that the General probably already knows, and knew when she sent her with a grim edict.

“Very,” is her quiet response, a truth acknowledged.

“And did you--”

“--yes.”

Kylo tugs on her wrist before letting her go. She feels the absence of his touch immediately. Like a white hot burn where his fingers once were. The raw desire to move in closer, to comfort him, is suffocating.

He twist his fingers in his lap. “It was undoubtedly an unusual way to wake up.” She’s never seen him, the real Kylo, smile. Supposes he hasn’t in years. But something boyish, something sweet begins to curve in his lips. Not quite a proper smile, but close.

There’s a traitorous blush growing in her cheeks; she can feel the heat of it. “There’s nothing usual about what passes between us.”

A spiral of hunger races through her, unbidden and inappropriate. To have him again. And on this bed with her friends outside waiting on her report back. With the General waiting to hear how he is and to discuss next steps. With the galaxy uncertain about the fate of Kylo Ren.

His eyes light up, sensing the tenor of her thoughts. He leans in towards her as if compelled. “I want this,” he says, answering a question she has to ask. He shakes his head, willing his words to dissipate and disappear. “I need this.” His gaze is unblinking. “I need you.”

“You have me.” She thinks: _maybe all along_.

(She’s thought of destroying him, she’s thought of turning him. She’s also thought of--)

He rises to his feet. Looks down on her from inches away. She can feel his body heat radiate towards her. She can also feel his mind search hers, search for permission.

Her head tilts back, her back straightens, there’s pressure in the balls of her feet. _It has to be your choice_ , she thinks. _After all that’s been done._

Kylo dips his head slightly, and she feels his breath against her just before his lips touch her lips, as if it’s the first time; timid and innocent. And she feels it all the way down to her toes.

She gives into the temptation she’s been subduing all this time. Wraps her arms around him and projects through the Force a healing sort of light. Still, there is a purpose in her actions.

“Join me,” she whispers against his lips and then kisses him back, open mouthed and completely bared wide to him. He groans against her and the kiss deepens, and with it, a shocking hit of desire consumes her. Through the Force, she knows the heat of it is not just her own. “Join me,” she echoes softly, and he whimpers. She presses against him, her body flush against his form. He’s hard against her, now of his own volition, and it’s almost too much. Then: “Please.”

He pulls away, and, overwhelmed with an ache growing between her legs, she is grateful that his mind turns to something more familiar-- turns to violence. Something she fully understands, not this-- this abject hunger for another person.

“I have one condition,” he says, and with a graveness in his voice.

She straightens up. “What is it?” There’s a whisper of the Dark Side in the room and yet she is unafraid.

“You and me.” He runs two fingers along her cheek, and then grips her chin. “We will make them pay.” And she sees his revenge fantasy, smells burning velvet and Hutt flesh. Hears their lightsabers swing together in unison again.

Breathing in steadily, Rey says: “I was hoping you’d say that.” She lifts her face gently and her eyes close. His lips meet hers.

 

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank yous to R & P & C & A for some serious beta action and some serious enabling. Thank you to PalenDrome for the delicious prompt, it was quite an adventure to plot it out and write it!!! I hope you enjoyed <3


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